


A Delicate Balance

by 0_Ruthless_0



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-18
Updated: 2012-07-18
Packaged: 2017-12-04 19:05:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/714013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0_Ruthless_0/pseuds/0_Ruthless_0
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eventually there comes a time when you can’t keep all your secrets to yourself</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Delicate Balance

Title: A Delicate Balance  
Characters: Ethan, Giles, and Buffy  
Rating: FRT  
Summary: Eventually there comes a time when you can’t keep all your secrets to yourself  
Wordcount: 970   
Setting: Could even be Sunnydale. There's nothing that really ages it, or dates it.

  


The blow came out of nowhere.

Literally.

Out of nowhere, and hard enough to floor him, leaving cartoon stars dancing around his head.

_Damn._

He’d forgotten how hard she could hit.

The dark copper tang of blood in his mouth –a cut lip, that was all.

Gingerly he pressed against his teeth with his tongue, just to make sure that they were all still firmly embedded in his gums.

_Yep._

He grinned, in spite of the pain that the action caused. Well, that was a bonus.

And _that_ must have been why he’d been warned to keep clear tonight, too.

Sitting up, he shook his head from side to side, slowly, so that his abruptly loosened brain didn’t come trickling out from his ears.

Then he groaned pointedly, and a pair of warm, strong hands were grasping at his arm helping him back to his feet.

“Bloody hell,” that voice, a touch exasperated, a little annoyed, so intrinsically familiar, “do you _ever_ listen to a word I say?”

 _Moot point, dear._ He thought the words, but didn’t voice them. In order to talk he’d have to figure out how his tongue and mouth worked again.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

_Ahh._

Now the blond brat asked her questions.

“How many people, or creatures of the night are capable of answering in the face of that?”

Sharp words, old and trusted friends.

“A lot more than are inclined to answer _back._ ”

Blast it. She’d spent too damn long with Ripper.

He gave her his most charming grin, not that it’d ever worked with her before.

“Rupert and I have a delicate balance. I keep my nose clean, and he refrains from knocking my teeth out of my skull. Honestly, I do quite like having them where they’re meant to be. And I’d quite appreciate if you adhered to the same conditions, too.”

“Still doesn’t answer my question of what you’re doing _here_.”

“In all truth, not a hell of a lot.”

“Not inclined to believe you.”

“Really. He’s not.”

Finally, Rupert cut in, distracting his Slayer for a few precious seconds, and Ethan began to inch towards the door. Before he could make good on his escape, however, Rupert pinned him with a glare.

“Ethan, _do sit down._ You’re here now, the damage is done, you’ve thrown your habitual spanner into the bloody works, so _you may as well stay_.”

Ripper’s voice was gaining that _stop pushing your sodding luck_ tone, which was one that he was intricately familiar with. With a dramatic sigh he threw himself down onto the couch, and then with his customary smirk he picked his legs up and stretched out full length of it.

“Ethan.”

A note of warning in his tone now, and he knew when to stop pressing matters. He swivelled around again, and sat up properly.

“So, why? And how long?”

Again Buffy pressed her questions.

Rupert turned away, headed through to the kitchen area in order to put the kettle on, as a cover for his inability to meet Buffy’s gaze.

He, however, had no such problems.

“Because I felt like it. It’s fun, to try and get under Ripper’s skin every now and then- Remind him how to live. I broke in one night, a couple of months ago, after more then a little to drink and no-one was home, so I curled up in his bed.”

_“Ethan.”_

Amazing, the number of ways it was possible to emphasize one name.

Still not meeting anyone’s gaze, and if he wanted to be able to continue sleeping in Rupert’s nice warm bed, rather than out on the couch for a couple of days before Rupert booted him out again, then maybe he ought to show a little more tact.

As his old mate had once said _never argue with the designated driver._ And the same apparently applied to housekeepers and roommates. And lovers.

“What’s the harm in letting her know that you’ve been a perfect host, willing to give your bed up for the couch?”

It was a lie- a casual, smarting, humbling, sensible lie.

And if the Slayer preferred to believe it, then it was up to her.

He watched out of the corner of his eye, as she looked slowly from himself, to Rupert’s stiff, tense back. It didn’t take that long to fill the kettle with water and make sure it was warming up.

“No,” The word was unmistakable, although the tone was a little more of a mystery, “No. I’ve slept on that couch. If Giles had been sleeping on it, then he’d be a lot crabbier then he is at the moment.”

At that point, Rupert turned, and arched an eyebrow at her, “If not on the couch then where did you suppose it was that I’ve been sleeping?”

At the conclusion of that sentence, Buffy blanched. If it weren’t his physical well being on the line, then it would have been amusing to watch.

“I… I didn’t actually think that through.”

Well, in for a penny, in for a pound.

And Rupert seemed to be able to read his mind, as he so often did these days.

“Buffy, I think it’s…. perhaps time…”

Time to tell her that they’d both finally grown weary of dancing around each other, that they’d known each other well enough before to be able to make a tiny bit of sanity out of this, whatever _this_ actually was. That they’d both finally tired of being alone, of being at odds with one another.

Then he caught sight of Ethan’s newly reborn devilish smirk, but this time he didn’t lift his voice in warning.

“You know, if it makes you feel any better then technically we’re not _sleeping_ together.”

She’d floored him, so at the very least he felt that he ought to be able to return the favour.

  
  



End file.
